


Consequences

by depizan



Series: Hands of Chance [3]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Language, Torture, cross faction, hand trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depizan/pseuds/depizan
Summary: When Kyrian's highly questionable approach to his job finally catches up to him, it may be up to Jezari and Savler to save his life.  If they can.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although this chapter is not, really, this fic will get a bit darker than my previous fics.

Caprida’s green patchwork of farmland reminded Kyrian a little of the planet he’d grown up on. The air was bright and clear and he could almost smell the tilled earth and bright new leaves through the cockpit windows. Thin silver arcs of an automated irrigation system glinted in the sun, and the agridroids barely glanced up at the passing starship.

Caprida was one of the Empire’s more automated agricultural worlds: network towers and droid barns replaced the scattered settlements and roads of a more traditional agriworld. There were no orphanages here, no industry, not even, as far as he could see from their approach, an orchard or ranch to break up the endless acres of fields.

And no obvious need for an Imperial Intelligence agent.

He’d taken a long approach to the main spaceport in the hope of spotting some reason for their summons. Watcher Two’s message had been unusually terse: they were needed urgently and would be briefed on arrival. Whatever was happening on Caprida, Intelligence thought it more important than the question of who was financing the Eagle’s terror network.

“Gotta be somebody’s idea of a joke.” Kaliyo perched on the oversized arm of the pilot’s chair with her usual casual disregard for regulations. And safety. “Or we’re supposed to shake the place up. Blow up a few silos, go joyriding through the streets. It’s got streets, right?” She frowned out the cockpit window at the fields below.

“Perhaps that's what we’re here to prevent,” Kyrian said. “The Eagle’s latest plan? Security here appears relatively low, and the Empire does need to eat.”

His partner made a face. “They’re starting to get to you, Agent. Let's blow this place, go back to Nar Shaddaa. Forget about the Empire. Before you turn into one of them.” She indicated the planet with a jerk of her thumb.

“An agricultural droid?”

She smacked him lightly. “You know what I mean. This is a waste of your talents. Probably another stupid mission for Darth Creepy.”

“I doubt that.” His last (and only) mission for Darth Zhorrid hadn’t gone well for anyone involved, and she was not the sort of Sith who forgot failures. Or forgave them.

_No one in the Empire seems to._

He shifted in the pilot’s seat, trying to ease the sudden tension in his shoulders. Watcher Two hadn’t mentioned Zhorrid, or his more recent – and more official – failure. It was a beautiful day, and a mission to protect the Imperial food supply would be free of moral quandaries. The perfect opportunity to balance his record.

“Don't you get sick of it?” Kaliyo asked. “‘Go here, do this, don't forget to bow.’ What’s in it for _you_?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

She snorted. “Your boss pays me obscene amounts of money. I still haven’t worked out if you _get_ paid. Come on, Agent, level with me. Why not throw in with the Hutts? Or go pirate? I got contacts.”

“I would make a terrible pirate. You know that.” Kyrian banked the ship toward the cluster of spires that marked the planet’s main port. “We're nearly there. You might want to take a seat; we could find trouble at the spaceport.”

She ignored the suggestion. “The Hutts then.” She leaned in close, her breath warm on his ear. “They don't get all zappy when you screw up.”

“True,” he agreed. “They feed you to exotic wildlife.”

“Hey, I'd bet on you against exotic wildlife any day.”

He laughed. “Now I _know_ you’re up to something.”

“Just reminding you you've got options.”

 

 

 

The view of Jiguuna from the upper floors of Nem’ro’s palace was a view few people had the opportunity to see. Jezari would have appreciated it more from _inside_ the palace. She shifted her grip on the industrial piping and tried to decide if she could slide down the slightly rounded surface to the balcony some six meters below. Nem’ro’s guards weren’t stupid. If they decided there really had been an intruder, they’d find the ventilation grate she’d climbed out of, and, if she was still clinging there, her.

 _It’ll be easy, they said. Just a few listening devices, they said. Little risk. Great pay. No problem._ It had sounded so reasonable when the SIS had hired her. Of course it would be easier for her to get access to a Hutt palace – she was a smuggler, a criminal, someone with a reputation in the underworld. And she’d pulled off far more complicated things for them before.

But having access to a Hutt palace didn’t mean having access to every part of the palace. Listening devices in public areas wouldn’t tell the Republic what Nem’ro was doing for the Empire. No, the devices had to go in private meeting rooms, the apartments of his lieutenants, and Nem’ro’s own suite, where there were security cameras and guards and where she definitely didn’t belong.

The pipe she clung to stretched upwards, vanishing out of sight as it followed the increasing curve of the building. There might be another way in up there somewhere. If she could climb that far. Her arms were beginning to ache.

Bracing herself, she reached upward, trying to find a higher handhold on the pipe. Her boots skidded on the smooth surface of the building and she nearly lost her balance. Hugging the pipe, she crouched back on the relative safety of the tiny ledge outside the vent.

 _Nope. Not going that way._ She panted, her heart pounding. Maybe Nem’ro’s guards would be reasonable and toss her in a cell while the Hutt decided what to do with her. Or they’d just toss her back out the vent as a warning to other would-be thieves.

Or they’d find the listening device she’d planted and turn her over to the Empire.

She looked around. _Can’t go up. Can’t go down. What else is there?_ There was another ventilation grate a couple meters in front of her, but no way to get to it. She needed the miniature grappling hooks and other tools real spies carried. _I do this again, I’m asking for supplies. Lots of them._

Behind her, another pipe ran down the building, past the balcony and out of sight. It was too far away to grab, unless she risked jumping for it. If she caught it, and slid down to the balcony…

Snatches of the guards’ conversation drifted out through the vent. She only made out a few words, but they were enough. She was out of options. Surrender or jump. She edged around the pipe until her back was to the grating. It wasn’t that far.

Sounds and a few more words from the vent told her the guards had found something to stand on besides the ornately carved table she’d used.

She focused on the distant pipe. Two and a half meters. Maybe three. And a thirty-forty meter drop to Jaguuna if she missed. Surrender: that was the safer option. The guards would take her to Nem’ro. Risha and her crew would rescue her.

If Risha hadn’t also been captured. If the guards _didn’t_ take matters into their own hands. If there weren’t Imperials on hand to take her into custody.

She jumped.

A long moment that felt more like falling and she slammed into the other pipe. Hands and feet clawing for purchase, she slid down. The pipe fittings tore through her gloves, grooves on the building’s surface threatened to jar her loose. The balcony floor rushed up and knocked the wind from her lungs.

She wheezed for breath. The dingy sky of Hutta had never looked more beautiful.

 

 

 

The spaceport proved to be as free of trouble as the approach had been. Kyrian and Kaliyo left the ship on one of the outsized landing pads and followed a port worker’s helpful directions to the administration building.

It was only a few blocks from the spaceport, close enough that Kaliyo didn’t object to the walk. The sun was pleasantly warm, the air just as fresh and clear as he’d imagined. The sidewalk and streets were clean and well-kept to Imperial standards.

They passed few people on their walk. The city was a tiny one, only qualifying for the designation as it was the only settlement of any size on the planet. It didn’t take a large population to keep agricultural droids running, or to oversee an automated harvest. With a light workload and little danger, Caprida was either an ideal posting or an incredibly boring one. They were there to ensure it stayed that way.

The administration building was a shiny duralium and glassine affair, its entrance flanked by ornamental trees.

The receptionist stood as they approached. “Third floor.” She indicated the bank of lifts to her right. “Take a right and it’s the second door on your left. Go straight in.”

“Thank you.” Kyrian glanced at Kaliyo as they waited for the lift. “Watcher Two did say it was urgent.”

She shrugged. “Not like they get tourists. Bet they don’t even have a cantina.”

“Probably not one that meets your standards.”

“You Imps just don’t know how to have fun.”

The small office they’d been directed to was empty. A couple of chairs were pushed back against one wall and a worktable sat at the far end, its display in idle mode.

Kyrian glanced around for an inner doorway or some sign of whoever had been waiting for them.

“Must’ve stepped out for a sec.” Kaliyo let the door close behind her.

The holocomm on the worktable snapped to life, the familiar blue-tinged image of a bald man in an Imperial uniform blooming above it. His expression was grim.

“Keeper?”

“I received disturbing reports of your activities, Agent.” His emphasis on the title was subtle, but unmistakable.

Kyrian’s mouth went dry.

“This is not the first time your indiscretions have been brought to my attention. It is the last. Investigation into your previous missions is ongoing, but evidence from your recent mission on Nar Shaddaa was sufficient. At 0700, you were stripped of your rank and designation. You have been declared a traitor to the Empire.”

“Sir, I...” His voice caught in his throat. There were no explanations. He had aided the enemy. Knowingly. Repeatedly. That his actions probably hadn’t harmed the Empire was irrelevant. He swallowed. “Kaliyo wasn’t… hasn’t...”

“Kaliyo Djannis is no longer your concern.” Keeper’s voice was ice. “Surrender your weapons and equipment. Do not make this difficult.”

Kyrian heard the door hiss open and the click of boots behind him. “Sir...”

Keeper’s face pinched with disgust, and disappointment. He cut the comm channel.

Kyrian closed his eyes. His heart thudded in his ears. Three, maybe four people had entered the room. Soldiers, probably. Armed. But perhaps not expecting resistance. He and Kaliyo had faced worse odds and prevailed. He could turn, slowly, as if surrendering, and...

The cold end of a blaster barrel pressed against the back of his head. “Don’t do anything stupid, Agent.” Kaliyo gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Guess I can’t call you that anymore.”

The soldiers seized him.

He had counted wrong; there were five of them. They stripped him of his weapons, his coat, his belt, searched him, scanned him for hidden cybernetics, and for the suicide pill he should have carried, all with harsh Imperial efficiency. He was nothing to them, no longer human in their eyes, a traitor. He would be shipped back to Dromund Kaas, to a final hearing – if sentence hadn’t already been passed – and executed.

He could have fought. It hardly mattered if he died now or in two or three days time. There was no escape. Nowhere to go if he fled. Even if, by some oversight, he could still access the ship, the Empire would be waiting for him wherever he landed. Or would ensure that the Republic was, and in a non-listening mood.

Stealing a shuttle would be little easier, and just as pointless. He doubted the few at the spaceport were fueled for more than a trip to orbit, or to oversee the fields. Even if he could make the next system, he would still be in Imperial space, in a stolen Imperial ship.

The cold grip of binders around his wrists put an end to the absurd line of thought. They fastened restraints around his upper arms as well, pulling his shoulders back painfully, and secured his legs, giving him just enough slack to shuffle along. The time for escape was long past.

The air in the room seemed to have thinned, as if the oxygen had drained away. His knees buckled.

The soldiers yanked him upright. There was no escape. None. It was over. Finished. He might as well have let Kaliyo shoot him. _No. No, there has to be a way. There has to be something. An opportunity. A chance._

A refueling station? Dromund Kaas? His guards would get tired of having to all but carry him everywhere. They would remove his leg restraints, suffer a moment of inattention… It was vanishingly unlikely, but possible. He clung to the thought.

The soldiers shoved him into the hallway, pulling him up sharply when he stumbled. The hall was no longer empty. A tall, expensively dressed man waited there, flanked by two almost inhumanly large men.

For a dizzying moment, Kyrian wondered if he were hallucinating.

Lord Dralick was a minor Sith Lord, with no connection to Intelligence, and every reason not to draw their attention. He had a history of doing unauthorized business, selling his chemical concoctions to anyone interested. It was the reason Kyrian had crossed paths with him in the first place. He couldn’t be there. It was impossible.

Lord Dralick’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Did I not warn you about your choices?” He nodded to the soldier on Kyrian’s left. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’ll take custody of the prisoner.” The smile he gave Kyrian was anything but pleasant. “The Sith take great interest in traitors.”

 

 

 

Jezari was relieved to find Risha waiting for her in a back corner of the cantina, as they’d planned. It was clear her engineer’s half of the mission had gone a lot more smoothly than hers. Risha looked coolly relaxed, her elegant hair and clothing unruffled. A short glass at her elbow held a splash of amber liquid – probably Corellian whiskey.

Jezari limped over to her table and dropped into the seat opposite her. “That’s done.”

“Problems, Captain?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think they saw me. But we better not stick around.”

Risha sighed and finished her whiskey. “What’d you do?”

“There were more guards than we thought.” Jezari explained her near capture in Nem’ro’s suite and her escape down the outside of the palace as they headed back to their rented speeder.

Staying the night in one of the palace’s guest rooms would’ve covered their tracks better – and let her have a nice long soak in a hot tub – but if either of them _had_ been seen, or caught on a security camera they hadn’t known about… It was too risky. Better to head back to the _Luck_ , and a medpac for her scrapes and bruises.

“At least the room turned out to be empty,” Jezari finished.

Risha rubbed her forehead. “This is why we need plans. _Actual_ plans.” She steered Jezari into the passenger seat and started up the speeder. “You can’t just wing everything.”

“It worked,” Jezari protested. “And we _had_ a plan.”

“We had _kind of_ a plan. Don’t argue, Captain. You’d be telling me the same thing if I almost got caught.”

“I… Okay, fine.” She sank back in the seat. “Next time, we’ll plan better. And ask for equipment.”

The spaceport wasn’t far from Nem’ro’s palace, but Risha took a winding route through the city to avoid the more dangerous areas of Jiguuna. Nem’ro’s feud with one of his fellow Hutts seemed to be mostly over, but there were always people in the seedier parts of Hutt towns who would look at two lightly armed people in a rented speeder and think that they were easy pickings.

“Why didn’t you take their offer?” Risha asked as she made the last turn back toward the spaceport. “You like doing this stuff. It’s most of what we do these days.”

“I like my freedom. And my crew.”

“Like the SIS wouldn’t take all of us.”

“I want to work for _me._ Take the jobs I want. _Only_ the jobs I want.” _And I don’t want to explain my friends._ If the SIS knew those friends included a bounty hunter who was willing to work for the Empire and – more damningly – an Imperial Intelligence agent, they’d lose all interest in her. Or decide _she_ was a danger to the Republic.

“Good.”

Jezari looked at her. “You’re not gonna try to talk me into it?”

“No.” Risha shook her head. “I think staying independent’s smart. But they’re not gonna drop it. You’re too useful to them.”

Jezari groaned. “I’m just a freighter pilot.”

“You passed that point a long time ago, Captain.”

The droid at the rental stand happily returned their deposit and they made their way through the throng of beings that filled Jiguuna spaceport. The _Wayfarer’s Luck_ was parked halfway down the row of private docking bays.

Corso bounded out of the door as they approached. “Captain! Are you okay? What happened? Let me help you.”

“I’m fine.” She shooed his hands away. “It’s just a few scrapes.” She limped past him and up the _Luck_ ’s ramp. _Hello, medpac._ Risha could fill him and Bowdaar in on what had happened.

“But...” Corso trailed after her. “Captain? There was a message while you were out. We waited for you.”

“I’ll get it in a second.” Jezari dropped onto the acceleration couch with the medpac and stretched out her throbbing knee.

 

 

 

Kyrian studied the walls of the cell. There wasn't much to study; the cell was purpose-built, a standard Imperial cell, not a converted cabin or storage room. There were no seams where one might pry a bit of paneling away, nothing that could be used as a weapon, only the smooth surfaces, prickling force field, and a limited sanitary arrangement.

Looking for nonexistent flaws was better than replaying Keeper's words. Or Kaliyo's.

Dralick's bodyguards had removed his restraints when they'd tossed him in the cell. For all the good that would do him. He could hardly overpower Dralick and his legion of enormous guards, nor could he escape from a starship in transit. At least not if he wanted to survive the attempt.

 _If I’d agreed, turned back to Nar Shaddaa, would Kaliyo have been pleased? Or did she only suggest it because she knew I’d never agree._ Kaliyo hadn’t been under arrest, even before she’d demonstrated to the soldiers that she was on their side, not his. But then, Keeper had never expected Kaliyo to be loyal to the Empire. Only loyal to a paycheck.

 _I’m sorry._ He could still see Keeper’s disgusted look. _I only wanted to…_ ...help people? ...change things? The Empire had raised him, trained him, Keeper had tried to turn him into a proper agent. And he had betrayed them all. Because he was soft, and squeamish, and could never see the big picture.

Yet, if Keeper had appeared and offered him one last chance, he knew he would only go on making the same choices. He wasn’t sure if that was courage, or cowardice.

The ship was too well insulated for the sound of the engines to reach his cell, but if he pressed his hand against the wall, he could feel the faint vibrations. They were in hyperspace. It was only a matter of time before Dralick came for him.

His throat felt tight. There was no escape. No one would come to rescue him. There was nothing he could do. No point in begging for mercy. Dralick had no reason to even keep him alive. _No, no… No, Dralick has_ every _reason to keep me alive._ Their destination was Korriban. For a Sith execution, yes, but Dralick was clearly not the executioner.

He followed that thin ray of hope.

Korriban was only home to Sith, but it did have regular supply shuttles. And miles of poorly mapped tombs and desolate canyons – filled with tuk’ata and k’lor’slugs and worse, but also filled with hiding places. People did escape. He’d met some of them. All he had to do was survive the voyage.

Dralick and his guards were far more likely to make a mistake than Imperial soldiers would have been. _It only takes_ one _mistake._ He would escape, hide, and steal on board a supply shuttle. Wherever it went there would be a spaceport. And from there, his way out of Imperial space.

He sagged against the wall. He wouldn’t think about the next two days. He would think about his one visit to Korriban and all the half-forgotten Imperial history classes that had covered the Sith homeworld.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the landing area. There had been guards – soldiers – but not many of them, and mostly to keep the wildlife away. It was hemmed in on three sides by cliffs, probably to limit both the size of landing craft and their approaches. _Was there really only one path?_

The sound of footsteps interrupted his attempt to remember. _Dralick._ He straightened and faced the forcefield at parade rest. It hid his shaking hands.

The Sith Lord smiled as he approached, one of his towering guards a step behind. “Ah, good, you’ve regained some of your spirit. I was beginning to fear this voyage would be dull.” He nodded to the guard. “Bring him.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jezari closed up the medpac and eyed the blinking message light on the lounge holocomm. She needed to change into a pair of pants that wasn’t missing one knee, and there was a bruise on her butt that could use some kolto. The message could wait. It was probably some old smuggling contact who’d seen the _Luck_ in port and had a job for her, or wanted to catch up over a friendly game of sabacc. Unless the SIS had thought of something _else_ she could do while skulking about Nemro’s palace.

_If it’s the SIS, I’m changing my holofrequency._ There weren’t enough credits in the galaxy to get her back inside the palace until she was absolutely sure they hadn’t been spotted.

The light blinked insistently.

She frowned down at it. The SIS wouldn’t have sent a message. It was too risky, and there was no need. Corso would’ve answered an active transmission. Even an old contact would’ve just called. _Why send a message?_ You didn’t do that unless you knew nobody would answer. Or you didn’t want them to.

She reached out and hit the playback switch.

“Hey, Captain.” Kaliyo’s smirking face appeared above the projector, blue tinted and slightly larger than life. “Your friend’s got himself in real trouble this time. Official trouble. Think they’re takin’ him to Korriban. Something about execution. Bet it’s gonna be messy.”

“ _What!?_ ” Jezari’s shout brought her crew running. “When!?”

“But, hey, least it won’t be quick, right?” Kaliyo continued. “You hurry and there might be somethin’ left to rescue.” She grinned. “Good luck, Captain.” The message blipped off.

Jezari slammed her fists down on the comm console, her howl of rage drowned out by Bowdaar’s. “Damn her! She didn’t give us _anything_!”

“Captain, what…?” Corso began.

Jezari cut him off. “When did this come in? How long ago?”

“I don’t… not long…” He shook his head. “Half an hour? Captain? What happened? Who’re we supposed to rescue?”

She growled.

Risha reached down and replayed the message.

It was no more helpful the second time. A destination only. No timetable, no hint at what had gone wrong, or where. The recording was low quality, the sort you could make at any public holoterminal. Kaliyo could’ve sent it from Nar Shaddaa, Tatooine, any planet in the Empire, or the next docking bay over.

“That’s it?” Risha tapped the holocomm’s display, as if she could coax more from it.

“She just wanted to gloat!” Jezari swore. “I never should’ve let him go back!” Kyrian had been so certain it would work out, so confident that the Empire would see his “failure” on Nar Shaddaa as nothing more than a mistake. He’d even holoed her after reporting in to assure her that it had gone “as expected.” She gripped the edge of the console, trying not to remember that last cheerful – if not entirely reassuring – holocall.

_Something else went wrong. Later._ While she’d been messing around on Hutta, he’d finally done something the Empire couldn’t miss. _I told you to run! Damn it! “_ Why doesn’t anybody listen to me!?”

“Captain...”

Korriban was somewhere deep in the Empire, probably days from Hutta. There was no guarantee that Kaliyo had even sent the message right away. She could’ve waited, laughing, until it was far too late.

_You don’t know that._

Fear wasn’t logic. Kyrian could’ve been arrested days earlier, yes, but even that didn’t mean they’d shipped him to Korriban right away. If there was a chance, no matter how small, that she could save him…

Jezari straightened and turned to face her crew. “I’m going after him. If any of you want off, I understand. But I’m going after him.”

“We’re with you, Captain,” Corso said. “Wouldn’t leave my worst enemy to the Empire.”

Bowdaar agreed.

Risha sighed. “The heart of the Empire takes special permits. I’ll see what I can do. You need a plan, Captain. You can’t just storm in and demand that they give him back.”

“I know that. When we get there, we’ll… I’ll…” Her knowledge of Korriban pretty much ran out after “Imperial” and “full of Sith.” _Something about artifacts..._ Not that that helped. They needed something that would give them landing permissions, not another reason for the Empire to arrest them. “Fine.” She waved at the cockpit. “Get her warmed up. I’ll holo Savler.”

 

 

The comm chirp cut through the darkness of the hotel room. Savler groaned and disentangled herself from Mako, who stirred sleepily. Unexpected comm calls were rarely a good thing, particularly in their line of work. She thumbed the switch, squinting against the sudden blue light of the comm.

“Yeah?”

“I need your help.” Tiny as the image was, Jezari’s worried look was only too clear. As was the scrape on her chin.

Savler sat up. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“It’s not me. The Empire… Kaliyo...” She ran a hand over her face and started again. “Kaliyo sent me a message. Kyrian’s been arrested. They’re gonna execute him.”

“Oh.” Mako leaned into the comm’s pick up range. “I’ll see what I can get.” She fumbled over the side of the bed for the datapad she used to supplement her implant.

“Kaliyo?” Savler repeated. The Ratataki mercenary hadn’t seemed notably more trustworthy than Imperial Intelligence. And she trusted Imperial Intelligence about as far as she could throw it, building and all. “You’re sure it’s not a trap?”

“He’s my friend! They’re gonna _kill_ him. I need your help. I know you don’t like him. I don’t care. I need you.”

“Calm down.” Savler made an appeasing gesture with her free hand. “I’m just tryin’ to look out for you.”

“You want to look out for me? Help me rescue him.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me what you’ve got.” _There’s not a hope in hell_ , Savler thought. The Empire didn’t screw around. She wasn’t sure they even bothered with trials.

“Not much. Kaliyo said they were taking him to Korriban. And implied…” Her voice faltered. “They’ll… Why didn’t I kidnap him!?”

“Jez, hey, we’ll think this through. Okay?” She rubbed her chin. _Sith, huh?_ Maybe it wasn’t entirely hopeless. “You sure he’s been arrested?”

“She made it pretty clear.”

“You trust her?”

“No.”

Mako leaned in again. “Forward the message to me. I want to see it. And I want to see where it was sent from.”

“Smart,” Savler agreed.

It took less than a minute for Jezari to forward the message to Mako’s comm. Savler studied the message, and Kaliyo’s almost exaggerated casualness. _Running high on adrenaline_ , she thought. _Bet she recorded this right away._

“Sent from Caprida,” Mako said. “Imperial agriworld. There’s not much there besides crops, droids, and a few soldiers to run things.”

“Doesn’t sound like Kaliyo’s kind of place.” Savler glanced at Jezari’s image for confirmation.

“So it was today.” Jezari’s relief was audible. “Can we intercept them?”

“Hang on. The _Luck_ ’s not outfitted to be a pirate, unless you’ve _really_ changed things. Where are you, anyway?” Carrying the comm in one hand, Savler started gathering her and Mako’s things.

“Hutta. Where are you?”

“Commenor.”

“Damn” Jezari said. “I was hoping you were closer.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’d have to meet near Korriban anyway.” Savler tried to work out how to get dressed while holding a comm, gave up, switched the pick up to wide audio, and set it on the nightstand. “If that’s really where they’re headed.”

“Caprida doesn’t get a lot of traffic,” Mako said, raising her voice for the comm’s benefit. “Not much to sort through. Ah! Small personal craft, internal code shows it registered to Intelligence. That’ll be your friend.”

“Kyrian,” Jezari said. “He has a name.”

“After he arrives, departures are…” She frowned. “Huh. That was fast. No, that’s it, unless they took him in his own ship, or he’s still there. Let me see who owns… Oh.” It wasn’t a good “oh.”

“What’d you find?” Savler asked.

Mako glanced at the comm, and the small impatient figure of Jezari. “I… uh… It might be a coincidence. I’ll see if they’re holding anybody.”

“You don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“What?” Jezari demanded.

“No. I’m sorry.” Mako turned to the comm. “The first ship to leave Caprida after Kyrian landed belongs to Lord Dralick.”

“He set him up!”

“Jez-”

“Where’s Caprida? When did they leave? I have to stop them!”

“Jez! Hey!” Savler scooped up the comm, flicking it back to a visual pick up. “Listen to me. Don’t do anything stupid. They’re in hyperspace. You’re not a pirate.” It was the wrong kind of logic. “Jez, if Kaliyo was telling the truth, Dralick needs to deliver him _alive_.”

“Dralick tortures people for _fun_!”

“Dralick’s not stupid. If your friend’s supposed to face a Sith execution, he’s gonna be facing it alive and in one piece. Anything else, and _Dralick_ ’d be in trouble.”

“Everything checks out,” Mako said. “Dralick’s headed to Korriban, with Kyrian. And it all looks official. Intelligence had security cameras for a room in the administration building cut for a few minutes, but whoever did it didn’t think about the cams in the hall, or the street, or the port.” She shook her head. “Typical Imperial thinking – do _exactly_ what you’re told.”

Savler relayed the information to Jezari. “We’ll use our ship. It’s got permits.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m not planning this on four hours sleep. We’ll get going and I’ll holo when I’ve got it figured out. You head for Korriban and wait for my call.”

“I hate this,” Jezari said. “I shouldn’t have let him go back.”

“Hey, that’s his fault, not yours. Hang in there.” She smiled. “I’ll think of something brilliant. You know I will.”

“Thank you.” The transmission winked out.

Savler stuffed the comm in her pocket. “I knew that Imp was gonna be trouble.” She pulled her jacket on, and buckled her gunbelt over her shirt. They’d wanted to avoid attracting the attention when they’d arrived, which meant her armor was packed neatly in a case. Her scowl deepened. “We’ll be lucky if we get back here in a week.”

A week in which the other Great Hunt contestants, including whoever their rival on Commenor was, could pursue their targets and cut her and Mako out of the running. To save a damned Imp. If it had been _Jezari_ in trouble... She sighed. _It will be if we don’t get a move on._

“Aori.” Mako put a hand on her arm. “Braden would understand. She’s family to you. Of course we have to help.”

_And Braden was family to you._ She drew Mako close. “It won’t take long. I promise. Then we’ll get back here and win the Great Hunt.” And avenge Mako’s mentor in the process.

 

 

Jezari paced the _Luck_ ’s lounge. The hours since they’d left Hutta had dragged so slowly she half expected to glance at the chrono and find that time was actually running backwards.

“Glaring at the holocomm won’t make her call any sooner,” Risha pointed out, not looking up from the datapad she was studying. “Have Corso fix you some dinner, at least. Or throw something in the autochef.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re wearing a groove in the deck plates.”

She stopped. “Damn it, there’s got to be some way to intercept them!”

“Even if we knew exactly the route he’s taking, and exactly when and where he’ll pop out of hyperspace, Savler’s right – this isn’t a pirate ship.” Risha looked up at her. “Captain, I know you’re worried.”

“It’s this waiting!” Jezari dropped onto the other end of the acceleration couch. “If there were something to _do._ But there’s not. And I can’t stop thinking about...” She held up a hand. “I know what you’re gonna say. I know. I know he’s a trained agent. I know Dralick has to deliver him alive. I _know_.”

“He’ll be okay.” Risha held out the datapad. “Here. Read up on Korriban. It might help with the planning. I’ll zap you something to eat.”

The image was red tinted, as if the display were out of adjustment; the rocks, the sky, even the light seemed rusty. Jezari tried not to think the first word that came to mind. Blood. Trickling down the blade of a knife, spattering the gleaming deck of Dralick’s ship.

“No.” Her stomach lurched. “No food.”

“Captain? Are you all right?”

Jezari shook her head. The image stayed, cold and sharp, in her mind. _It isn’t real. Just likely_ , a nasty voice in the back of her mind added. Dralick had had it in for Kyrian from the beginning. Everything they’d done since could only have made it worse. “I should’ve forced him to defect. Handed him over to the SIS. Anything but this!”

“That’s not like you.” Risha picked up the abandoned datapad and sat next to her. “He knew the risks. He knew you’d take him in, or help him walk away. It was his choice. It had to be.”

“So, what, he pays for being brave?”

“No, he pays for being stupid. And you’ll patch him up and give him the spare cabin.” She handed her the datapad. “Read this. Eat something. When Savler calls, we’ll work out the details.”

 

Nothing in the encyclopedia entry, or the other articles and mentions Risha had found, struck Jezari as terribly useful. As far as the galaxy at large was concerned, Korriban had been a mostly abandoned and more than half legendary planet before the Sith Empire had popped out of nowhere and reclaimed it from the Republic. It had been off limits when it was in Jedi hands and it was even more off limits now that it was in Sith hands.

Most of the information was almost forty years old. Then, there had been an abandoned Sith Academy, of interest mostly to treasure hunters, and a couple of largely deserted cities. Now, to the Empire, it was home to the gloriously reborn Sith Academy – she’d shuddered at the brochure, only slightly more subtle than a tourism ad, and far more disturbing – and to everybody else, it was a place people just didn’t come back from.

“It’s bad and full of Sith,” Jezari grumbled. “I already knew that.”

“And food and supplies have to be shipped in from off planet on a regular basis,” Risha said. “The wildlife is dangerous, even to Sith. There are still a few really reckless or desperate people hanging around Dreshdae, and, even though the only official port is at the academy, treasure hunters _have_ made it on – and off – world.”

“It’s pretty much all rock. You don’t need a port. The problem is the Sith. And the wildlife. And the fleet in orbit.” Jezari slumped back in her seat. “There’s got to be some place Dralick’ll stop before Korriban. Or…” She sat up. “I could holo him and taunt him about wrecking all of his computers.”

“He’s not stupid. He’s not going to trade Kyrian for you. Or meet you for a duel. He’d send bounty hunters or soldiers after you and keep going.”

“It’s two and a half _days_ from Caprida to Korriban. Longer if Dralick takes his time.” Jezari rubbed her forehead. The screaming was only her imagination. The blood, the crackle of electricity, the sizzle of burning flesh… only her imagination. _Not real. None of it’s real._

“Captain?”

The holocomm chirped. Incoming transmission. Jezari dove for it.

 

 

Savler wasn’t sure any plan could live up to the desperation Jezari had answered the holo with. That called for something more like a miracle, and she didn’t have any of those up her sleeve.

“Getting on Korriban’s not the problem,” she said, once Jezari’s crew was assembled. “Sith use bounty hunters, just like everybody else. The trick’s finding your friend. And getting off planet again. There’s also the chance this is a trap. So we’re making Corso a bounty hunter. Dralick might be on the look out for me, or you, but he won’t be expecting him.”

“What?” Corso said.

“A little paint, a better helmet. I think they’ll buy it. Maybe pick up a cheap dart gauntlet if you can find one. Mako even found a bounty rumored to be on Korriban.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer for him to look for somebody who’s _not_ there?” Jezari asked.

“It’s not like he’s gonna be asking in the cantina. Just a name to give if the Imps ask who he’s looking for.”

“Are you sure we can’t catch Dralick somewhere _before_ he gets to Korriban?”

“Jez, you’re not a pirate. I’m not a pirate. We don’t know any pirates.”

“Maybe there’s a fueling station or a… a… I don’t know. Something.”

“We know he’s going to Korriban,” Savler said. “We make our move there. That’s how it works. We go flailing around trying to find him somewhere else, we might miss our chance altogether. I’ve got this worked out.”

_Mostly worked out._

There was just one thing they didn’t know, and couldn’t find out until they got there: _exactly_ where Dralick was taking him. There were holding cells and torture chambers in the Sith Academy proper. And there were holding cells and torture chambers, or things that amounted to them, in at least some of the assorted other buildings and workshops scattered throughout the Valley of the Dark Lords. Sith used prisoners for a lot of things – slave labor, experiments, bait.

_They’d probably hold a traitor in the Academy. For apprentices to practice on. Anything else’d be too quick._ She wasn’t sharing that line of reasoning with Jezari.

“Get everything on the list Mako sent you. We’ll take care of Corso’s new identity and the registration for the ship. We’ll meet on Mycia Prime. Imperial, of course, but comfortable enough not to be too suspicious, and about as close to Korriban as you’re gonna be able to get. The spaceport in Nyron should be safe. You get there first, you wait for us.”

“I don’t like this,” Jezari said. “Can’t we, I don’t know, _sneak_ onto Korriban or something?”

“This _is_ sneaking onto Korriban. You pop out of hyperspace anywhere near there in the _Luck_ and they’re gonna know you’re up to something. Doesn’t matter what kind of registration we put on it, it’s a freighter. And not a military one. You get everything on that list, give Corso’s armor a paint job, and meet us on Mycia.”

“And then what? We just sneak out of your ship while Corso’s playing bounty hunter?”

Savler nodded. “Pretty much.”

“There’d better be a lot more to it than that,” Risha said. “You’re supposed to be _good_ at plans.”

“There is. I don’t want you or Jez worrying about the details until we get there, okay.”

“I _really_ don’t like this,” Jezari said.

“I’m not sure I like it either. Sonic dissuaders? _Swoops?_ ” Risha had pulled Mako’s list up on her datapad. “What are you planning?”

“A rescue.” Savler paused. “You need me to send some credits? Getting some of that on short notice might be pricey. Here.” She didn’t wait for an answer. The swoop bikes alone were likely out of Jezari’s budget. “I transferred enough to cover you. Your Imp’s gonna owe me.”

“Savler.”

“I’m doing this for _you_. He’s a whole nother story. And don’t think I’m happy he got you into this mess. He owes us both. Big time. See you on Mycia.” She cut the comm before Jezari could argue.

“You okay?” Mako asked.

“I don’t like risking your life like this. Or Jez’s.” Savler sat on the low crate the ship’s previous owner had bolted to the floor in lieu of a chair. “I’m half tempted to ask you to stay with the _Luck._ If anything goes wrong...”

“It won’t.” Mako took her hands. “And if it does, we’ll fix it. Together.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She nodded. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful.”

Savler sighed and squeezed Mako’s hands. “We’ll need a back-up plan.”

 

 

Mycia Prime was exactly as Savler had suggested: a fat, happy planet, content under Imperial rule. Jezari hated it.

She hated Nyron's gleaming skyscrapers, visible even over the rim of their docking bay. She hated the oh-so professional port workers who would clearly have preferred her to be human. She hated that the docking bay was meticulously clean. She hated the thunderstorm they'd landed in. She hated the clear skies afterward.

Mostly she hated that they had arrived two hours ahead of Savler, and that they were still ten hours from Korriban.

Everything was purchased, prepared, and ready to go, loaded onto a pallet for quick transfer to Savler's ship when she landed. There was nothing left to do to distract her from the horrors her imagination threw at her, or from her growing fear that there was no plan good enough. Could you fool Sith with maintenance coveralls and swoops re-tuned for quietness? Surely the Empire had guards and sensors to keep people from trying what she was pretty sure Savler planned.

_Not that you need them with Sith._ The first one they met would see through any disguise. Even Corso's. They'd sense fear and lies and it would be all over. Saving Kyrian was impossible. They were all going to die. Horribly.

Every sense of self-preservation she'd ever had shrieked at her to flee, far from Imperial space, far from Sith. _Impossible. Hopeless._ But the only nightmares she'd had had been of Kyrian. Dralick had to deliver him alive and in one piece. Once the Sith had him, it would be a different story. They could keep him alive for days – _weeks –_ until there was nothing left that was identifiable as human. And then, maybe, they'd let him die.

_Dralick won't get there much more than an hour ahead of us._ Another hour to get there, find him... It was too long. It was all a mistake. They should've found a way to intercept them. Pirates did it. It had to be possible. Why had she listened to Risha and Savler?

Bowdaar's rumble of concern cut through her thoughts.

"I hate waiting. I hate all of this. I want to just fly in there, blast everything, and rescue him."

Bowdaar gave her shoulder a squeeze. The waiting was almost over. And they might yet have a chance to blast things. Even Sith weren't completely immune to blaster fire, or vibroswords.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the darker chapter. Please note the updated tags - warnings were necessary.

The sun was sinking low behind the Sith Academy, throwing the Valley of the Dark Lords into a premature twilight, when Lord Dralick’s ship arrived on Korriban. The landing platform was not the one Kyrian was familiar with, but it shared one important feature: it was connected to the Academy by a winding path past ancient tomb entrances and narrow canyons.

Tombs and canyons that afforded an opportunity for escape.

Not, perhaps, the best opportunity, given the k’lor’slugs (and worse) that roamed the valley, but opportunity nonetheless. Even being eaten by k’lor’slugs would be a more pleasant fate than what the Sith planned for him. It would certainly be quicker.

Kyrian stumbled down the rocky path, trailing as far behind Dralick as he dared. A pair of Dralick’s guards brought up the rear, the ominous crackle of their electrostaffs a reminder not to get too close to them, either.

They hadn’t bothered to bind him, not when he could barely walk. Dralick had taken full advantage of the voyage for his sadistic entertainment. It hadn’t even been revenge—his taunts had made that clear—he simply liked hearing people scream.

_A medpac or two, a little kolto, I’ll be fine_ , Kyrian told himself. The damage wasn’t that serious, no matter how it felt. When the time came, desperation and adrenaline would give him the strength he needed.

He shuffled along, head bowed, trying to look even weaker than he felt. His boots caught on the rough ground, each stumble jolting a new wave of pain through his aching body.

_I only have to run far enough to find a place to hide._ He could do that. He had to.

He shivered. His tattered clothing offered little protection against the chilling air. _A warm place to hide._ Warm enough to survive the night, at least.

But the cool air cleared his head, curing the last of the dizziness induced by Dralick’s torture drugs. All he needed was a likely canyon. Small enough to hamper the guards, large enough not to dead end immediately. He would worry about the wildlife, a hiding place, and the cold of night once he’d put some distance between himself and Dralick.

The path curved around a jagged outcrop, overhanging rock deepening the shadows. To the right, perhaps two meters below the path, a black opening yawned, narrow and inviting. The Sith Academy loomed closer. There would be no better chance.

Kyrian leapt from the path, skidding on the loose stones. He plunged into the darkness of the canyon.

The air seized him in an iron grip. It pulled him backwards and upwards, slamming him to the ground at Dralick’s feet. He gasped for breath, choking in the dust. _No, no…_

“Did you really think you’d escape? Did you think I couldn’t _sense_ your sickening hope?”

_No…_ Kyrian clawed helplessly at the stone. Another meter, a little farther, and he would’ve been out of sight. Out of reach.

“Tsk,” Dralick said. “Pathetic. All this time, and you still don’t understand.” He spun one of his guards’ electrostaffs slowly, almost casually. The charged ends crackled as they cut through the air. “There is no escape here. No hope.”

Kyrian flinched as the electricity traced a burning arc centimeters above his back.

“Your pitiful training will not serve you,” Dralick continued. “It will not help you to withstand your fate. You will beg for their mercy. Beg even for death. But there will be no mercy. And your mind will be gone long before they let your body die. Oh, yes, they will break you, a piece at a time.” He brought the end of the electrostaff down on Kyrian’s right hand.

 

 

 

 

Korriban approach control approved Corso’s request to land outside of Dreshdae without hesitation, and with a firm reminder that he could expect no assistance from the Imperial troops or the Sith. Jezari followed the landing instructions, settling Savler’s ship on a plateau overlooking the abandoned city. A few lights gleamed among the ancient buildings, but most of the settlement was as dark as the canyons they’d flown over.

“Okay,” Savler said. She’d tinted her face deathly pale, thick makeup hiding her scar, and painted jagged, blood red tattoos across her forehead and jawline. Corneal lenses gave her eyes a yellow glow, and her black hair fell loose, emphasizing the unnatural pallor of her face. “Last chance for questions.”

_How is any of this supposed to work!?_ Jezari wanted to shout. She was made-up just as pale, the natural yellow-tan of her skin giving her an even more sickly undertone. Another set of blood red false tattoos zigzagged across her cheeks, covering her real tattoos.

“It doesn’t seem right you’re taking all the risks,” Corso said. “Me and Bowdaar could-”

“You and Bowdaar guard the ship,” Savler said, not for the first time. “I mean it, farm boy. If my ship gets infested with shyracks while we’re off saving the Imp, I’m holding you _personally_ responsible.”

“Kyrian,” Jezari growled. He _wasn’t_ an Imp any more, and what the Empire did to traitors… A cold sinking feeling gripped her. Dralick had landed less than an hour ahead of them. It wasn’t much time. And the Sith _might_ wait until morning. Dark images clawed at her mind. _We’re too late. This’ll never work._

Corso trailed after them. “But we-”

“Nope,” Savler said. “Any other questions?”

Risha and Mako had already guided the swoops down the ramp and out into the night air. The overpowered speeder bikes hummed, vibrating with suppressed power. Even tuned for quiet rather than speed, they would eat up the kilometers between the ship and the Sith Academy in no time flat; a “slow” swoop was faster than any legal bike, and capable of altitudes and feats no legal bike could dream of.

It would take far more than ultra-fast speeders to pull off Savler’s plan.

Like suddenly gaining Force powers.

Jezari froze. “We can’t do this. There’s got to be another way.” They could slip in under cover of darkness and… and… “They’ll see right through us!”

“No, they won’t.” Savler tossed her a pair of night vision goggles, and put on her own.

“They will!”

“Jez, relax. We’ve got this.” She turned to Risha and Mako. “Remember: no extra risks. As soon as you’re done, head straight back here.”

“Got it, boss. Be careful.” Mako gave Savler a quick hug and swung herself onto the swoop, behind Risha. Their dark gray maintenance coveralls blended into the darkness, as did the all-important bundle strapped onto the back of the seat.

“Comms working?” Risha asked. “Everybody remember their dissuaders?”

Jezari numbly tested her comm, and the box on her belt that would – _should_ – keep the wildlife away. It wouldn’t have any effect on Sith. _You can’t fight Sith. You can’t trick Sith. You can’t fool Sith. You can’t._

_They have Kyrian._ His life depended on Savler’s impossible plan. It depended on her taking a deep breath, getting on the other swoop, and… fooling Sith. It was that or walk away and let her friend die.

She took a deep breath and got on the swoop.

 

 

 

 

The lights in front of the Sith Academy were red tinted, and dim enough to leave large swaths of the area in shadow. The more distant glimmers of landing areas and workshops also had a crimson cast. Savler thought the hue was more for atmosphere than night vision; Sith loved nothing more than being dramatic.

They’d coaxed the swoop down a steep canyon as close to the Academy as they dared and parked it behind a large boulder. Savler left her dissuader clipped to it. The last thing they needed was to come back and find some Sith-warped snake curled up to the leftover warmth of the repulsor engine.

The canyon opened out onto one of the stone paths that ran from the Academy into the Valley of the Dark Lords. A pair of soldiers passed by, heading to wherever the path led. They gave the dark opening no apparent mind.

_They’ll have a lot more to think about soon_ , Savler thought.

A hooded Sith passed, muttering.

Jezari’s grip on her arm tightened, but the Sith continued on without a sideways glance.

“If they sense us, they’ll just think we’re hiding from our master,” Savler whispered when the crunch of the Sith’s boots had died away. “If we’re not trying to kill them, we don’t matter. This whole place is crawling with failed Sith and escaped slaves.”

Jezari swore quietly. “What are we-”

Savler shushed her. A faint electronic warble came from the path, the sound growing steadily louder. There was only one kind of droid that talked to itself that much. She leaned close to the canyon wall, peering carefully up and down the path. No one was close. Only the tiny box of a droid whirring its way up the path.

She stepped out and planted a booted foot in front of it.

The mouse droid backed away with a whine.

“You.” She glared down at it. “Bring me an interrogation droid.”

It bleeped and sped off, back toward the Academy.

Jezari stared at her. “You said we were gonna spike a _computer_.”

“Yeah, I got to thinking about that.” Savler rested her hip on a rock, watching the canyon entrance – and the path – closely. “Not sure they have a central database. Sith are funny about technology. I’m thinking if they don’t bother with a proper security system, they’re not gonna bother logging their prisoners.” Or, if they did, the computer was in the chief jailer’s – or chief torturer’s – office. “But I bet the interrogation droids know where all the prisoners are.”

“Savler...”

“Get ready. It’s coming back.” She stepped back onto the path to wait. The interrogation droid would draw less attention talking to a Sith than disappearing into a canyon.

Another pair of soldiers – or the same ones, returning down the path – passed her without comment. She ignored them, as a Sith would, her gaze on the interrogation droid following the mouse droid up the path.

It hovered to a stop in front of her, an assortment of appendages folded under its bulbous body, giving it the look of a metallic jellyfish. The mouse droid zipped around her and was gone.

“Droid,” Savler said, “I need you.”

Jezari reached out of the darkness and shoved the probe into the interface port at the back of its domed head.

The droid twitched, its photoreceptor dimming for a moment. It gave a crackle of binary.

“It’s working,” Jezari whispered. The faint light of the datapad lit her painted face as she handed it over.

_Now for the tricky bit._ Savler was sure, however weird Sith were about technology, they didn’t need datapads to talk to their droids.

“The prisoner Dralick delivered, where is he being held?” She demanded.

Another crackle of binary and words appeared on the datapad: //Priority three cells.//

“Location of-” Savler stopped. That would only get her unhelpful directions. “Map the location of priority three cells on this datapad.”

A three-dimensional map of the Academy bloomed to life, a section of the first lower level blinking (in red, of course) with text labeling it as the priority three cells. She grinned and pulled up Mako’s program. A few quick selections and the droid would forget their conversation and return to its normal duties as if it had never been interrupted.

“Perfect,” she said as the interrogation droid floated away down the path. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

Jezari glowered at the darkness, her gaze fixed straight in front of her, grateful her face was shadowed by her hood and the ill-lit halls. Every time they passed one of the silent, armored guards who stood at attention along the walls, she wanted to flinch.

Sith wouldn’t flinch. Sith wouldn’t acknowledge their presence, not even with a flicker of their eyes.

_This is impossible,_ a little voice at the back of her mind gibbered. _Hopeless. It’ll never work. They’ll see. They’ll know. It’s impossible!_

_No._ Sith were hate and superiority and rage, not chest-tightening panic. They weren’t afraid. They made other people cower before them. _“Trust me_ ,” Savler had said. _“They’re all scared of each other. They just don’t want anybody to know it. They’re not gonna notice a little more fear.”_

A tall Sith, masked and cloaked, and silent as the guards, stalked past them.

Jezari fought down a whimper. _He knows. They all know!_ But the Sith’s heavy step didn’t pause as it faded into the distance behind them.

_You’re Sith,_ she told herself. _Hate. Rage. Power._

Her heart pounded in her chest, in her ears. Each step she expected to be challenged, to hear the smug, evil cackle of a Sith who’d sensed them, for the silent guardians to come to violent life.

_Look like a Sith, act like a Sith, that’s all that matters._

The halls were claustrophobic and stiflingly hot. Sweat stuck the shirt she wore under her dark robes to her chest and back. They wouldn’t have to sense her fear. They’d smell it.

Savler turned down another corridor, Jezari following a step behind. The corridor was empty, silent except for the ring of their boots on the metal floor. Savler hesitated for a moment and opened a door on the right side.

The room beyond was dimly lit, recessed lights picking out the door, an angled metal table in the far corner (Jezari tried not to notice the restraint straps dangling from it), and two rows of cells – all but one deactivated and empty.

At first glance, the active cell looked empty, too; its reddish-orange force field containing nothing but air. And a dark, huddled lump on the floor.

She crossed the room in an instant.

“Jez! Wait!”

She ignored Savler’s whispered yelp. The force field controls were on the upper emitter, nearly out of her reach. Standing on tiptoe, she jabbed the switch to “off.” The force field winked out.

She dropped to her knees beside him. “Kyrian.”

His bloodstained clothing was too shredded to do much to hide his injuries. His light brown skin was blotchy with purpling bruises and crisscrossed by jagged cuts and welts and a raw network of burns. His face was mostly untouched, his eyes shadowed, dark stubble growing out along his jaw. He was curled in on himself, hunched around his shattered right hand.

He was alive. Conscious, barely. His gaze vacant and unfocused.

“Shit. Kyrian, it’s me.” She fumbled for the medpac she’d stashed in the robe’s deep pockets. It seemed woefully inadequate. “Hang on. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

He blinked up at her. “Jezari?” It was little more than a hoarse croak. “How?”

“Kaliyo.” _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._ She’d known it would be bad, but she’d still wanted to believe... “She sent a message. I… I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“Huh.” His eyes closed.

“No, no, don’t do that. Stay with me.” She injected him with a small dose of the medpac’s painkiller. She longed to give him the maximum dose, but the readout warned her that there were unknown drugs in his system.

“Got the cameras,” Savler said, kneeling beside her. “Damn.” Her voice softened. “Kid, I know it’s bad, but we’re gonna see what we can do to get you out of here. Okay?”

He nodded.

“You’re gonna be okay.” Jezari tried not to look at his hand. There was nothing in the medpac to help with that kind of damage. “We just… we’ll get you out of here.”

Savler took the medpac, frowned, and handed it back. “Looks like stims are out. Well. Let’s try sitting up, drink a little water. That injection should be kicking in.”

It took both of them to help him sit up. He leaned on Jezari, breathing heavily, his arm clutched awkwardly to his chest. With her help, he managed to drink some of the water Savler had brought.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Jezari repeated. He needed a medcenter: a kolto tank, a surgeon, real medical care. Somewhere that wouldn’t ask questions. Hutt Space was painfully far away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Shh. We’re gonna get you out of here. Nothing else matters.”

Savler stood up. “Go ahead and give him some kolto. Not too much, but it’s okay if he’s drowsy. Might be better, even.”

“What are you doing?” Jezari twisted to see her walk over to the slanted table. “Savler?”

The table was supported on a pivot, held up by a pair of wide supports. Savler circled it as if looking for something. She bent and straightened, holding a small metallic object. She fiddled with it for a moment and the entire arrangement lifted off the ground with the faint hum of a repulsor field.

“Oh no,” Jezari said. “We can’t.”

The table followed Savler back to the powered off cell. “He can’t walk,” she said. “No one will give this a second glance.”

“No.”

Kyrian glanced at the table and shuddered. He closed his eyes. “She’s right.”

“There’s got to be some other way.”

Savler shook her head. “There’s no time. Give him some kolto and help me get him on this thing.”

It wasn’t a pleasant task, even with Kyrian woozy from kolto. If they hadn’t needed him conscious for the swoop ride, Jezari would’ve given him enough to knock him out completely. His breathing was ragged and too fast, and it clearly took an effort of will for him to let Savler take his right arm to strap him down properly. His whole body jerked when his injured hand touched the metal table top.

Savler grimly strapped him down.

Jezari swallowed bile. _This is my fault. I knew we should’ve intercepted Dralick. Stopped him… Stopped you from ever going back. I’m sorry._

“Jez.” Savler’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Fix your hood. It’s time to go.”

 

 

 

 

The walk out of the Academy seemed easily twice as long as the walk in. Savler had tucked the interrogation table’s remote into her belt as she’d seen Sith and guards do; the table would follow it anywhere.

She hadn’t really lied to Jezari. Transporting unconscious prisoners was normal on Korriban – or seemed to be every time she’d visited – but prisoners were far more often transported _into_ detention areas than out of them.

The silent guards in their niches along the walls didn’t move as they passed. The few Sith they encountered either paid them no heed or eyed them with something akin to jealousy.

Her half-smirk never wavered. Projecting the confidence and casual cruelty of the Sith was their best ticket to going unnoticed. They were delivering a prisoner from one terrible fate to another. Just another night on Korriban.

Their footsteps rang in the dark corridors, echoing farther than the hum of the repulsor field. Her hood felt too small. It blotted out far more of her peripheral vision than her helmet did. If anyone behind or beside them sensed that something was wrong, they wouldn’t know until it was far too late.

The heavy makeup she’d used to cover her scar itched. Even disguised as she was, it would be a long time before she’d risk delivering a bounty to Korriban again. There were some few cameras, even if there wasn’t a proper central security system, and someone would eventually work out what had happened.

_If the Sith weren’t too good for technology, Mako could’ve covered our tracks._

She snapped her mind back to the present. _Focus._ If they got lost in the maze of corridors, it would be all over. If anyone noticed the cameras in the cells had failed, it would be all over. If anyone questioned them. If anyone went to the cells expecting to find Jezari’s friend. If any of a dozen things there was no way to prevent.

They walked in silence. Purposefully. Calmly.

A lift took them to the main floor and its broader, but still shadowed, passages. There were more Sith there. And more of the statue-like guards.

Savler breathed a small sigh of relief when they emerged from the stuffiness of the Academy into the cold night air. The red pools of light revealed a few Sith on their own night errands.

She flipped back her hood and started up the path, Jezari at her side, the table following behind. A pair of soldiers stepped respectfully to the side to let them pass.

They encountered no one else.

At the entrance to the canyon, Savler took Jezari’s arm and pulled her inside. The table followed them into the darkness, the repulsor field gliding smoothly over the uneven ground.

Savler put on her night vision goggles and undid the table’s straps. “Okay, kid, we’re almost home.”

He stirred weakly, hugging his arm to himself.

Jezari pulled off her robe, revealing a decidedly un-Sith-like shirt and pants, and fumbled with it. There was a faint ripping sound. “Help me get this on him.”

She’d cut the robe open up the front. He was too weak and dizzy to be much help, but they got his left arm in the sleeve and wrapped the right side around him. He sagged against Jezari, still shivering.

“We’ve got a swoop.” Jezari helped him the last few meters to the large rock. “You just have to stay awake a-”

The Valley of the Dark Lords blazed with light, as if every lamp in front of the Academy and along the trails had suddenly been turned to full power. As they probably had been.

“Go!” Even in the side canyon, the light was enough to make Savler squint.

The shrill wail of an alarm sounded from somewhere in the Valley. And then another. Mako and Risha’s distraction, right on time.

Jezari fired up the swoop’s engine. Her friend clung to her. Savler climbed on behind him and steadied him with one hand, grabbing a passenger grip with the other.

“Get us out of here!”

Jezari needed no further urging. She spiraled the swoop up, out of the canyon. They roared away from the lights of the valley, alarms blaring behind them.

 

 

 

 

Bowdaar and Corso stood guard at the foot of the ship’s ramp, weapons at ready. Jezari pulled the swoop to a stop in front of them. Kyrian was slumped against her, only the grip of his good hand telling her he was still conscious.

Savler leapt off. “Help us get him inside,” she ordered. “Are the others back yet?”

“They…uh…” Corso waved vaguely at the ramp.

Bowdaar sheathed his sword and carefully scooped Kyrian up.

“This way,” Savler said. “Jez, get us out of here. Farm boy, grab the swoop. And don’t forget to turn it off when you get it inside!”

Jezari hesitated, fighting the urge to follow Bowdaar.

Corso took the swoop from her. “Captain, what… what _happened_?”

“Dralick. Sith.” Jezari shook her head. _Sith. The light. The alarms._

She sprinted up the metal stairs to the flight deck level. The sonic lures Risha and Mako had set up were a distraction and a delaying tactic, nothing more. The wildlife they attracted wouldn’t keep the Sith busy for long. And they would do nothing to keep them from contacting the warships in orbit.

Mako was already in the cockpit, going through the preflight. She nodded to Jezari and dropped into the copilot’s seat, not pausing in the checklist. “Hydraulics. Life support.”

Jezari took the pilot’s seat and the last of the pilot’s half of the checklist. The cockpit wasn’t laid out quite like the _Luck_ ’s, but it was similar enough, especially after the practice run flying it to Korriban.

The headset she hadn’t bothered to put on squawked angrily. Demanding Corso prove he wasn’t involved, or ordering him to join in the hunt. She fired up the engines and answered them with her takeoff.

She steered the ship over Dreshdae, curving out into the wastelands, away from the Valley of the Dark Lords and the fleet in orbit above it.

“They’ll try to cut us off,” Mako said. “There. Set two six zero. I’ll have our jump ready as soon as we’re out of the atmosphere.”

“First we’ve gotta get there.” There was already an ominous blip on their sensor display. Korriban was desolate, with no real cities, no areas of high technology they could get lost over. It was a race. And Savler’s ship was slow and sluggish compared to the _Luck_.

The blip was gaining on them.

“The hell with this.” Jezari pulled back on the yoke, sending the ship screaming for open space.

“We’re still too close to the fleet!”

“Get that jump ready.” There were more ominous blips moving in. A lot more. “Scratch that, get _any_ jump ready. I don’t care it’s not out of the system!” She couldn’t find the internal comm. “Guys!” She shouted. “Weapons!”

Imperial ships filled their windscreen – two large warships and a swarm of fighters. Jezari flew a zigzagging evasive course away from the larger ships. They had to get past them, out of the gravity well of the planet, or they wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Their ship rocked as the first laser blasts hit. The shields stayed solidly green.

“What are you doing?” Mako yelped.

“The jump. Get the jump.” Jezari spiraled the ship into a formation of fighters, scattering them. Their ship might survive a collision. The fighters wouldn’t.

The ship shook and lurched as the fighters peppered it with laser fire. She was too busy to tell if anyone had manned their own laser canons. An alarm whooped. Their shields were flickering yellow.

“Mako!”

“Almost...”

A bright flare of heavier weapons fire illuminated the cockpit, far too close for comfort.

“Almost… Got it!” Mako cried.

Jezari banked around a wedge of ship that suddenly blocked their path and aimed for clear space. Alarms howled.

“Go!”

Jezari pulled back on the lever, and the stars stretched into the chaotic blur of hyperspace. The shield alarm continued to wail. She reached out and switched it off. “How long?”

“Shh!” Mako’s fingers flew over the navigation console. “Okay. Punch it again as soon as we revert.”

As if on cue, the whirls of light outside their windscreen shifted back to a field of stars. Jezari didn’t look around to see where they were, or where the battle they had abruptly left was. She reactivated the hyperdrive, and the stars were gone again.

 

 

Risha’s contacts found them a doctor they could trust. Not a specialist, but as close as they could come without selling their souls to a Hutt clan or the Exchange, or facing dangerous questions at a Core World medcenter.

Though if it hadn’t been for the distance, and Kyrian’s damning accent, Jezari would have been tempted to risk Republic authority and the Core Worlds. Competent as the Zeltron and her surgical droids seemed, she didn’t have the resources of a real medcenter or the innovations of a surgeon on Coruscant or Rhinnal.

But she was a real doctor, and her resources were better than they’d had any right to hope for. Jezari tried to tell herself that was good enough.

Savler checked them into a large suite at a hotel with more than enough automated luxuries to ease taking care of an injured man. She noted with some amusement to Jezari that that wasn’t even a coincidence – the mountains outside the city were a popular skiing and climbing destination. It had taken all of Jezari’s self-control not to snap at her in response.

They were exhausted, short on sleep, and long on stress. And more than grateful there were enough beds for all of them. (Even if none were quite as long as Bowdaar would have liked.) That it was barely noon by planetary time hardly mattered.

Though Jezari stared at the crisp white ceiling for a very long time before she finally fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

Kyrian rested his arm on the balcony railing, mindful of the splint that covered his hand and most of his forearm. The doctor had recommended he keep it elevated as much as possible to reduce swelling. His hand ached. It was probably time for another pill, but that meant going back inside.

The last purple streaks of sunset glimmered on the horizon and the air was still pleasantly warm. He leaned back on the padded bench – it was too hard to really qualify as a couch – and stared up at the sky, watching the stars appear.

The doctor had been clear without being unkind. There was no chance of a full recovery; there was simply too much damage to his hand. She could operate, and he would have a good chance of...mostly recovering. There would be some loss of strength, of dexterity. It would be impossible to know how much until after he healed from surgery. There might be areas of numbness, depending on the nerve damage, or the pain might never go away.

_“Please,”_ he’d said. _“Try.”_

He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing. Imperial Intelligence agents didn’t cry, even former ones. His training had failed him there. Perhaps if he’d actually completed cipher training. But the missions, the Eagle, it had all been too important to spare the time. Now, it didn’t matter.

He breathed in slowly and let it out again, just as slowly. He was alive. The planet – whatever it was – seemed pleasant enough, and was far from the Empire, he hoped. It was all over. He was alive.

The curtain rustled behind him. “Kyrian?” There was a tinge of concern in Jezari’s voice.

He sat up hastily and ran his hand over his face. She might take it for sleepiness; he’d slept most of the day. The balcony lamps were off and the curtain blocked most of the light from the room.

She hesitated in the doorway. The bar of light behind her cast her face in shadow. “How, uh… You…” She started again. “You weren’t in your room. I just… If you want to be alone…” She turned.

“No.” He shook his head. “The view is lovely.” They faced the city rather than the mountains, but the bright sea of lights that stretched away below them was appealing in its own way.

She sat beside him on the upholstered bench, a cautious distance between them. “Are you okay? I mean… considering.”

_Considering…_ The word left more than enough leeway for a reassuring answer. _Yes, I’m fine._ It would only be a small lie. _I’ll_ _be fine._ That was probably true. _I’ll…_

“No,” he said at last. “Not really.” He looked up at the sky, now bright with stars despite the urban glow. “I knew the risks I... No, I thought I knew the risks. I was so certain I’d have warning. That Keeper would hesitate, or I’d see something in his manner. In Watcher Two’s. Reluctance. Regret.” He sighed. “They’re loyal to the Empire. I knew that.”

Jezari put a hand on his shoulder.

“It was obvious. An urgent summons to an Imperial world? One with few opportunities for escape. I should have realized.” He closed his eyes. “Kaliyo knew. She even tried to warn me. I didn’t realize that, either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I should have listened to you. You were right about everything.” He’d been so arrogant; so certain he could fool everyone. _Of_ course _a junior field agent can think rings around all of Imperial Intelligence. It isn’t as though they have decades of experience spotting lies and treason._ “I thought I could protect the Empire, ignore orders I didn’t agree with, save people, help you. And not have to choose.”

Her grip on his shoulder tightened. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“All I had to do was have even a tiny shred of wisdom.” He could have walked away and saved himself – saved all of them – so much.

“Kyrian. Hey.” She shifted on the bench, turning to face him. “I mean it. It wasn’t your fault.”

“The risk you took, coming there…” He tried to push back the raw memories. Jagged pain. Fear. The cold metal floor of the cell. He concentrated on the angular shape of the railing, a simple dark form against the city lights.

“We’re _friends_. You’d have done the same thing for any of us. Just… Just listen to me next time, damn it.”

_I will._ The words wouldn’t form. _Always._ He needed to say something. Something reassuring. Anything. The dark shape of the railing blurred.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled him close. “It’s not your fault.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She was warm and solid and hugging him far too tightly. He never wanted her to stop.

 

 


End file.
